


Shameless

by Ruby J (rubygirl29)



Category: Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: M/M, Magnificent Seven AU: ATF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-27
Updated: 2011-03-27
Packaged: 2017-10-17 07:58:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/174620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubygirl29/pseuds/Ruby%20J
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A first-time story. Chiis and Vin's relationship changes when Vin is seriously injured.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shameless

TITLE: Shameless  
Author: Ruby J.  
Rating: NC17 m/m sex. C/V  
Disclaimer: They belong to the Alphabet Soup guys at MGM, CBS, Trilogy, etc. No financial or creative rights are claimed by the author. She is just grateful she gets to write about them.

Authors Note: The inspiration for this story came from the song Shameless, written by Billy Joel, and sung by Garth Brooks. I figure I'm in enough trouble with the Alphabet guys without adding Garth to the list, so if listen to the song, you'll understand why I thought of Chris and Vin when I heard it. Right, Sue? Also, this is the infamous "First Time," story y'all wanted me to write after I mentioned that event in "Making It All Go Away." It turned out to be longer and more involved than I anticipated, but then, I am incapable of a "quickie."

 **Shameless**   
_Part One_

There were things in this world that Chris Larabee did not understand. Snow, for instance. And why it always seemed to fall the heaviest at rush hour, on a freeway, between Denver and the airport. He’d been sitting in traffic for nearly an hour, after a delayed flight from Phoenix, where he’d been confined to a room with six other ATF chief agents, talking about training exercises.

Fucking waste of time. His team didn’t need training exercises. Their daily routine was training enough -- hell, it would have been training enough if they were riding into a war tomorrow. The tires of his truck skidded on the road, and Chris pulled his steering wheel to counteract the drift, narrowly missing the fender of the car in front of him. Traffic slipped and slid to a halt.

He cursed and rested his head on the steering wheel. Five minutes. Ten minutes. And Chris’ mind wandered down paths he wished it would not follow. And it seemed all those paths led in a direction he didn’t want to go. Vin Tanner.

Times were that Chris thought for sure he was losing his mind. There had always been *something* between him and the Texan. Instant recognition, instant trust, from the moment their eyes had met. It was as if they had fought together before; stood at each other’s side and held the evils of the world at bay. Having Vin at his side just seemed right.

Chris felt at peace with the long-haired sharpshooter. Or he had, until the day he’d been watching Vin ride Peso out at the ranch, and had been hit with a wave of desire that had set him reeling. Tanner was a beautiful rider; graceful, lithe, strong. And that day, as the sun had come out from the clouds, Vin had turned his face to it, his expression one of sheer joy, the wind lifting the golden-brown waves of his hair as he rose in the stirrups. Chris’ body had hardened and the world had shuddered and shifted to a place he no longer recognized as being his.

He had tried to argue that response away. Tried to place the blame on some sort of delayed adolescent reaction to another man’s body. Dear God, he had been married, he’d had a child! He’d dated and bedded some of the most desirable women in Denver, over the last two years. Yet the sight of Vin Tanner, free and filled with joy, had done something to him that no one else had since Sarah. It had made him ache with longing.

And it continued until Chris was certain that he was as transparent as glass to the other members of the team. Why Vin? Why at this time in his life? He didn’t know. It didn’t help that Tanner was just about as beautiful a man as Chris had ever seen. All he had to do was look at the Texan, or hear that raspy drawl of a voice that seemed to turn every word into a rough caress -- never mind that it delivered wicked humor, or anger, or insight that seemed at odds with what you expected from him -- and he was lost.

He had never been a man to spend passion lightly. He was not like Buck, flitting from woman to woman. In the years since losing Sarah and Adam, he had been through hell and back again, finally coming to some sort of accord with the world he’d been cruelly forced to occupy alone. He’d teetered on the brink of destroying his career with alcohol, anger, and reckless disregard for his own life. Hell, there were nights he’d spent staring down the barrel of his gun, eye to eye with death. Death had blinked. But it had been a near-run thing.

Sarah had always seemed to stay his hand, as if she were whispering to him that this was not what she wanted for him, that there was something good yet to come to his life. It was what made Chris get up in the morning, get dressed, and make what he could of the day.

Chris sighed. “Baby, I wish you’d tell me what that is, ‘cause I’m getting weary of waiting for it.”

Weary. And then there was Vin.

God.

He *was* fuckin’ losing his mind!

The shrill chirp of his cell phone and the lurch of the car in front of him brought him out of his slump. He eased forward a few feet, and flipped his phone.

“Chris Larabee.”

The phone crackled with static. Buck’s voice faded in and out, and Chris had a hard time hearing him. “Chris? Where the hell are you?” Or at least that’s what it *sounded* like.

“Long story. On the freeway, stuck in traffic which ain’t movin’. And I can’t hear you too well.”

“ ... raid. Big trouble ... Vin ... Mercy...” The phone cut out and Chris nearly hurled it through the windshield. Those five words were enough. Vin and Mercy could only mean one thing. Get to the hospital ASAP. God, what had happened? Why hadn’t they paged him in Phoenix? What trouble had the Texan stirred up now? If he wasn’t dead, Chris might just kill him. And if he was ... Chris might just kill himself.

********************

Buck Wilmington paced the length of the ER waiting room. Five long strides back and forth. He must have worn a path by now. The other occupants of the black vinyl chairs were staring daggers at him, but after years of exposure to the infamous Larabee glare, he’d developed a hide as thick as Kevlar. The door to the treatment areas opened, and he whirled to face it. Rain Jackson was smiling at him, her dark eyes only slightly shadowed with worry.

He felt like the world had just been lifted from his shoulders. “You can come back, now,” she said. She didn’t have to repeat it.

Then as soon as the door closed behind them, she took his arm. “Let’s step into the lounge for a minute.”

Buck didn’t move. “What’s going on, Rain?” he asked. “Vin and JD are all right?”

“Yes. They were very lucky. JD’s injuries are primarily cuts and bruises. Vin’s are more serious.”

“How serious?” Buck asked, concern showing through the enormous relief that JD was going to be all right.

“He tore some ligaments in his shoulder, possibly sustained a concussion, cracked a rib, and lost a lot of blood from that leg wound. He’s in surgery right now to repair the damage.”

Buck rubbed his eyes. “How long is he gonna be in there?”

Rain shrugged. She wished she could say. She knew Buck was carrying a lot of worry on his shoulders. “I’ll call down and find out how things are going, okay? Meanwhile, there’s someone looking for you.” She took his arm and led him towards the treatment area.

JD was just coming out of one of the cubicles. He was pale, and Buck was willing to bet that that red mark on his cheebone was going to turn into a spectacular shiner overnight. But Lord, he was glad to see him in one piece! He’d looked so broken and bleeding when they’d brought him in. “Hey, kid. How are you feelin’?”

“Shitty.” JD managed a grin. “Like someone took a baseball bat to me. Where’s Vin?” The kid suddenly looked scared, and Buck reassured him.

“In surgery. Rain’s calling down to see how he’s doing.”

JD blinked away the tears that were clouding his eyes. “He saved my life, Buck. I don’t know how he knew that crate was booby trapped, but he did. He pushed me outta the way, threw himself over me. He’s got to be okay.”

“You know Vin. He’s a mite scrawny, but he’s tough, and stubborn as a Texas mule. He’ll make it through just fine.”

At that moment the double doors shot open as Chris launched himself through the entrance. “What’s going on, Buck? Where’s Vin?” Those two almost breathless questions first, then he noticed JD. He took in the bruises, the bandages. “You, too?”

JD nodded. “Yeah. But I’m fine, Chris. Really. Vin -- he saved my life.”

“Where is he?” His gaze shot past Buck and went right to Rain as she was coming down the corridor. “Rain, where’s Vin?”

“Right now, he’s in surgery. It’s going well, and they should be bringing him to Recovery shortly,” she explained. “Why don’t you take JD to get something to eat, Buck? And before you start arguing with me, JD, I’m telling you this as a doctor. Your body needs food to heal. I’ll bet you haven’t eaten since lunch.”

He hadn’t. He looked at Buck and the two of them set off towards the cafeteria. Rain took hold of Chris’ arm. “Come on, let’s go to the lounge. You look like you could use some coffee.”

Chris couldn’t deny it, though he *felt* like a man who could use some whiskey. But he let Rain pour him a cup before he asked again about Vin. She sighed. “He sustained a deep puncture wound to his thigh, and lost a lot of blood. Along with his other injuries --”

“What other injuries?” Chris asked tersely.

“Torn ligaments in his shoulder, a slight concussion, cracked ribs, cuts and bruises.”

The catalog made Chris’ knees go weak. He sat down and studied the linoleum floor. “He will be all right?” His heart was beating quick-time, and it was hard to breathe, to speak. He felt Rain’s hand on his shoulder.

She crouched down to eye level. “He will be fine, Chris. We’ve stopped the bleeding, and he just needs some repair on the muscles. He will make a complete recovery -- as long as --”

“What?” Chris asked sharply. “As long as what?”

“As long as he takes care of himself. He isn’t going to be able to climb stairs for at least a week, maybe two -- and he lives in that apartment where the elevator doesn’t work most of the time --” she sighed and shook he head. “You know him, Chris.”

Chris did. He also knew that Tanner didn’t take the elevator unless he had to. He claimed the stairs were faster and more reliable, but Chris had seen his nerves hopping in elevators moving at nearly the speed of light, and in brand-new buildings. He’d watched the Texan get tense and still in crowded rooms, knew that he didn’t endure close contact easily. Claustrophobia? Maybe -- though Chris sensed that there was more hidden than revealed by Tanner’s reluctance to be in tight quarters.

Rain was watching him expectantly, and Chris didn’t know what to say. He knew what he wanted to say; and he knew that he was holding back out of fear: he was afraid of spending time alone with Vin, and of his own body’s restless urges. But he owed Vin, and the thought of him alone and hurting in that run-down apartment he called home was unbearable, for any reason.

“He could stay out at the ranch ‘til he’s healed. If he’ll come.”

Rain’s beautiful smile lit her face. “I was hoping you would offer.” Her pager went off and she left him to check her message. “Chris?” she beckoned to him. “He’s in Recovery. Do you want to see him?”

With every bone in his body.

*********************

Recovery was a cold place, Chris thought. Too many bright lights, noisy machines, medicinal odors; the occasional yelp or moan as a patient started coming out of anaesthesia. He followed Rain to a curtained cubicle. Vin lay on a slightly raised bed. He was nearly as pale as the sheets, his chin stubbled, dark lashes closed and resting lightly on shadowed orbits. His left arm was in a sling supporting his damaged shoulder, his right hand lay palm up on the bed. He looked young, and hurt.

Rain took his hand and started chafing it. “He’s like ice.” She moved the curtain aside and called to a nurse. “Margaret, get a heated blanket. He doesn’t have enough blood in him to keep his temperature up.”

Chris’ stomach lurched. “Rain, that doesn’t sound too good.”

“It’s not unusual. That’s why we keep blankets warmed.” The nurse came and spread the blanket over Vin’s slight body, tucking it close. Chris couldn’t help noticing that she ran a gentle hand over Vin’s hair. She realized that he had caught the gesture, and smiled at him as she returned to her duties.

“Vin? Vin, c’mon, wake up. Open your eyes.” Rain continued to chafe his hands, and Vin moved his head restlessly on the pillows.

Chris stood over him. “Vin? Time to wake up. C’mon, cowboy.”

Blue eyes fluttered open and Vin winced at the intrusion of the harsh light. Chris moved to block some of the glare. Vin smiled, tried to lift his hand, and failed. “Hey ...”

“Hey, partner.”

Rain smoothed the hair from Vin’s forehead. “How are you doing?”

“Thirsty.”

She picked up the tumbler of water at his bedside, ready to hold it for him, when her pager went off. “Chris --” She handed him the water. “I’ve got to get this.”

Vin tried to lift his head, got it about an inch off the pillows, and then fell back. He was weak as a newborn kitten. Chris hitched his hip alongside Vin’s shoulder and slipped his arm beneath him, lifting him. He felt Tanner’s sharp shoulder blades, the slight weight of him in his arms. His heart was beating against Vin’s back, and he prayed Tanner wouldn’t notice how rapid it was. *God, why did he have feelings for this man?*

He didn’t know, but he could not let Vin suspect, not now when he was without defenses. Perhaps not ever ... He had the strength and Vin did not. So he would be the best damn friend the Texan ever had, because if he lost him, he might as well be dead.

When Vin had finished drinking, Larabee released him, helped him lay back down, and fixed him with a steady gaze. “You feel like telling me why you and JD look like refugees from a scratch and dent sale?”

Vin grinned at that, some of his ease restored by Larabee’s manner. “Hell, I shoulda known it was a trap. Got this call from a snitch, claimed to have seen crates of automatic rifles being off-loaded from a freight train down at the terminal. So me, Buck, and JD thought we’d mosey on down there an’ have a look-see.”

Chris lifted a brow. “And?”

“Well, we found them crates, all right. But no guns. One of ‘em was rigged t’explode.” Vin’s eyes darkened. “I had a feelin’ about it, Chris. I tried to warn JD but the kid was already prying it open. All I could do was push him out of the way and cover up.”

Chris’ breath caught at the matter-of-fact tone that belied how close he had come to losing two members of his team. Two friends. “Seems like all you could do was enough, pard. Thank you.”

If Vin had more blood in him, he would have blushed. As it was, his cheeks warmed slightly. “Ya don’t hafta thank me, Chris. Was jist doin’ my job.”

“Buck and JD might argue with that,” he smiled. “And so will I, when you’re able to give me a good fight, Tanner. But for now, we’ll let it ride.” He set his hand on Vin’s shoulder, saw the blue eyes widen for an instant, and the surprise at the kindness he saw there struck to his heart.

There were times, despite the bond that had been forged between himself and Tanner, that Chris was taken flat aback by the quiet Texan. Times like this, when his vulnerability shone in those blue eyes, that made Chris wonder what sort of life he had led, for such small gestures to touch him so deeply.

Rain came back then, with an orderly. “We’ll take you to your room, now, okay, Vin?”

“If I gotta stay here,” he tried to smile, but yawned instead. “When c’n I go home?”

Chris glanced at Rain. She shook her head. “We’ll talk about that in the morning.”

“Y’know I hate this place, Rain. Ain’t no reflection on you ‘r Nate.”

“I know.” She nodded to the orderly, and they took hold of the bed rails. “Chris, see you tomorrow?”

“I’ll be here. Vin, you listen to Rain. That’s an order.”

Vin did manage to lift his hand to his brow in a mock salute. “Yes, sir.”

When Rain came back, Chris was slumped against the wall, looking about as played out as she’d ever seen him. The flourescent lights emphasized his pallor and the hard hollows and shadows of his features. She crossed her arms and frowned at him. “Go home, Chris. You shouldn’t be here this late. Security will throw you out.”

“Hell, Rain. They don’t scare me.” Despite his exhaustion, his green eyes glinted sharply. “Just tell me how he is, really. And I’ll leave, peaceable like.”

Rain laughed. “He’s sleeping. And you should be, too. Buck and JD have long since left, so there’s no reason for you to be here. Come back tomorrow.”

Chris took her advice. But the drive back to the ranch was more than he could manage, so he went to the office. The guard at the door looked at his ID, looked at his tired face, and let him pass. Chris didn’t turn on the light in his office. The illumination from the outside was sufficient for him to see by. He’d slept there before, and he’d do it again, no doubt. He kept a blanket folded under the couch, and he pulled it out. He took off his boots, went into the washroom. When he came out, he lay down, covered himself, and fell into so sound a sleep that he didn’t wake until Ezra roused him the next morning by waving a cup of coffee beneath his nose.

 

*******************

Vin hated hospitals. He hated that he hurt when he was there, that he was laid out flat, and that people he didn’t know felt they had a right to set hands on him. He had to hold his rising panic down, and let them do what they needed to do, because it was what was expected. But Lord, he just wanted to go home.

At least Chris had been there.

Chris. Vin felt both a deep peace, and a deep despair at the thought of Larabee’s comforting presence. Peace, because he knew as long as Chris with him, that he was safe. Didn’t even have to be in the same room, sometimes he could *feel* Larabee’s presence, in danger, in dark places, like a guardian angel. He’d never had anyone like Chris in his life. Someone to walk beside him, to watch his back. It frightened him sometimes, to have someone so close. But still not as close as he wanted or needed him to be.

Lord, he was in love with Chris Larabee.

Couldn’t be. Not in this lifetime, anyway. About as close as he’d get was that moment when Chris had held him, giving him that drink of water. He’d felt Chris’ heart beating against his back, the warmth of that hard chest and the strength of those arms, and for a time, everything had felt perfectly right. He’d have to make those few minutes last a lifetime, because to think there would be anything but friendship between them was impossible.

A nurse came in early to take his blood pressure, his temperature, and to check his IV. He asked if he could get out of bed, and she looked at his chart, frowning. “Not until Dr. Jackson agrees. Do you need to use a bedpan?”

Vin blushed furiously. He figured he could wait a bit, maybe get Rain to agree to let him out of bed. “No.”

She left, and Vin sat waiting for the next indignity. After a while, he began to get truly uncomfortable. The bathroom beckoned, not six feet from his bed. Hell, he’d walked around with bullets in him, he could tackle those six feet, no problem. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, grabbed the IV pole, and stood up. Big mistake.

The pain in his leg made him gasp and nearly fall back. He clung to the pole, wavering, certain that he was going to tip over face-first and lie on the floor until someone came in and saw his bare ass hanging out of the skimpy hospital gown. Real dignified.

He took a halting step, hissed in pain, and moved his right leg forward. *Oh, shit!* This was harder than he’d thought. He felt sweat start up on his body, his knees started shaking, and he thought he’d add gut-wrenching nausea to his catalog of humiliations.

Then suddenly he heard a footstep, and Larabee was there. He caught him about the waist, carefully lowering him back to the bed. When Vin was safely down, breathing like he’d run a mile, Chris stood over him, a blond brow arched sardonically. “You going somewhere, pard?”

“I’s gonna try t’git to the toilet b’fore I pissed all over the sheets.”

“You ever think of asking for a bedpan?”

“Shit, Chris.” His cheeks flamed. “I cain’t --”

Chris didn’t laugh. He pulled the curtain to screen the view from the doorway, and reached under the bed. “I’ve been in a few hospitals. These things feel like they keep ‘em in a refrigerator.” He set the urinal on the bed. “Think you c’n manage on your own?”

“Yeah.”

Chris walked away, and looked out the window. He hated this. Hated that he was aching for a man in pain, that he was too conscious of that slim body beneath the thin hospital gown. How sick was that? He leaned his head against the cold glass and waited for Vin to call him back.

*****************

Rain came in eventually, scolded Vin when he admitted to trying to get out of bed, and studied his chart. She sighed. “Well, I hate to do this, but there’s no reason to keep you here, Vin.”

“Great. I’m outta here. Ya hear that, Chris?” He started to get out of bed, and was stopped mid-motion by her frown. “What?”

“Vin, you won’t be able to go back to your place yet.”

“Why?”

“Well, first of all because you can’t be running up and down those steps for at least ten days. You just can’t. Your leg won’t stand it. Second, you’ve lost a lot of blood, and until your body can replenish it, you’re going to be weak. Third, you need to watch out for any signs of infection, and that dressing on your leg will need to be changed. You can’t do that yourself.”

“Where’m I supposed t’go?” he asked. “Reserve a hotel room an’ hire a maid?”

“You could stay out at the ranch with me, Vin,” Chris said softly. “You’d be welcome.” He watched Tanner’s expressions chasing through blue eyes. To any other watcher, probably even to Rain, he seemed impassive, but Chris saw with clearer eyes, reading surprise, gratitude, a touch of apprehension, then finally acceptance.

“Long’s I wouldn’t be in the way, “ Vin said slowly.

Chris grinned. “If ya get on my nerves, I’ll just put you up with the horses, pard.”

“Chris!” Rain scolded, half-afraid that Vin would consider that a viable alternative. And then shot them both an exasperated look at their expressions of masculine amusement.

“Seriously, this is important, Vin. The better care you take of yourself, the sooner you’ll be back at home, and back on the job.” She handed him an envelope. “Instructions, prescriptions, advice from your doctor. Obey them to the letter. Chris, you need to read them, too. I want to see you back here in three days, Vin.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He looked down at the detested hospital gown. “I ain’t walkin’ outta here in this rag.”

“I’ll stop by your place and pick up some things for you,” Chris offered.

“Pretend there ain’t dishes in the sink,” Vin warned. “Haven’t had much time for housekeepin’ lately. Keys are in my jacket, wherever that is.”

“I have your keys,” Chris said. “I had Buck take your jacket to the forensics lab to see if they can piece together some information about the explosive device.”

Vin looked wary, but he nodded. “Reckon that’s all you need, then.”

“You turn off the burglar alarm?” Chris asked, smiling.

“Any burglar who c’n find somethin’ worth stealin’ is welcome to it,” Vin snorted. “It ain’t exactly the Ritz.” He lay back, suddenly tired, strength gone faster than he would have liked. “Don’t take too long, Chris.”

Larabee nodded, but he caught Rain silently voicing the words, “Take your time.” He thought it wouldn’t be a bad idea if he stopped at the office to make a few calls and check up on Buck and Ezra, and their pending cases. Give Vin a chance to rest, and himself a chance to firm up his own resolve at the prospect of spending ten days in close contact with Vin. It was going to kill him, for sure.

*****************

Vin’s apartment was in Purgatorio, one of Denver’s worst neighborhoods. Chris and the others couldn’t figure out why Vin insisted on living in that place. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t making enough money to move to someplace nicer, someplace safer; but Vin preferred it and refused all their well-meaning attempts to dislodge him from the rat-trap of a building where he lived.

The evidence of gangs was all around; graffiti, groups of sullen youths on street corners, litter and discarded drug paraphernalia. It made Chris’ skin crawl. Vin’s building was a four story, red brick structure. The landlord made a cursory attempt to keep in repair, and the front of the building was clean and free of gang-related slogans. Chris knew that there were several elderly people living in the building, and wondered if Vin felt responsible for their safety; and that was the reason he refused to budge. It didn’t occur to the sharpshooter that his own life was in peril. The team tried to keep a low profile, but that wasn’t a guarantee of anonymity. The trap of the previous day was evidence of that.

Chris went up the four flights of stairs, thinking that Vin would never have been able to manage if he had insisted on going home. He opened the scarred door, went inside, and promptly locked it again behind him. Vin had added an array of hardware that would have put Fort Knox to shame. Chris shot the deadbolt.

The building was nearly a hundred years old, and Vin’s apartment was a showcase of the best and the worst of the passage of time. The rooms were large and high-ceilinged, but being on the top floor meant the first place the roof leaked was in Vin’s apartment. The plaster was marred with irregular rust-colored stains that spread like a fungus across the surface. The windows were long, but it would take more than the caulking Vin had applied to keep the winter winds from whistling through the panes. The kitchen was a nightmare of ancient appliances and outdated wiring that made Chris shudder. He looked in, wondering if Vin had been serious about the dishes in the sink; knowing that his own bachelor housekeeping was less than immaculate at times. There were dishes, but Vin had washed them and left them to drain. He hated the thought of “critters” and kept his place clean.

Chris opened the refrigerator, to see if anything was in danger of developing into toxic waste. A carton of milk, a pack of cheese, cans of cola. Fast food containers from Mexican and Chinese take-out. An apple that had seen better days. Nothing that even resembled a vegetable. Chris shook his head. Damn Texan would get scurvy if he didn’t drink orange juice. Chris discarded everything that could spoil and put the trash at the door, to take down with him when he left.

He returned to the living room. He’d been there before, briefly. But not since that day his world had changed. Now, he looked around him with new eyes. Vin didn’t have much; a small TV, a stereo he’d picked up from a second-hand shop and had refurbished, furniture that was plain and serviceable. The coffee table and end tables were cluttered, but the surfaces were clean. Chris had never noticed the books on Vin’s shelves. They were mostly the kind bookstores featured at Christmas, photographic specialty books that wouldn’t tax the reading skills of the dyslexic sharpshooter. Chris wandered over and fingered the spines. History, weapons, automobiles, airplanes, horses. More. All testifying to the quick intelligence that hid behind that damned drawl, and easy slouch.

*God. Vin.*

Chris sat down on the couch, thrust his fingers through his hair. *God, how could this be happening?*

His phone rang, and Chris nearly jumped out of his skin. He flipped it open with a shaking hand. “Larabee.” His voice came roughly from a tight throat.

“Chris? You all right, pard? Something happen to Junior?”

“No. No, Vin’s all right. He’s being released later. I’m at his place now, picking up some clothes for him. I’m taking him to the ranch for a few days. Rain says no stairs, so he can’t stay here.”

“Good.” Buck paused. “Are you all right?”

“Sure. Just tired. I’ll stop in before I go back to the hospital.”

“You tell Junior t’take it easy. See ya soon.”

“Yeah.” Chris closed the phone. He couldn’t sit here agonizing over his fractured self-perception. He had a friend -- a friend -- who needed help, and by God, no one was going to say that Chris Larabee had let him down.

******************

By the time Chris made it back to the hospital, Vin was ready to climb the walls. He sat on the bed, in the thin robe the hospital had so kindly provided, flipping through the channels of nothing on the TV, and all too conscious of the nagging pain in his leg. He was tired, and cold, and they kept coming to take his blood pressure, or his temperature, to give him medication and iron pills. He couldn’t take it, not one more intrusion.

The tech who came in to draw blood bore the full brunt of his ire when he produced a needle and proceeded to grab at Vin’s arm. “No!” Vin seized the man’s wrist. “No! Git that damned needle away from me! Y’ain’t stickin’ me with it!”

“Vin!” Rain stood in the doorway, hands on her hips. “What is this?”

“Y’keep tellin’ me I lost blood, an’ then y’send someone to take some more,” he said rebelliously. “I ain’t gonna have any left.” He was ashamed of his outburst, and he looked at the tech apologetically. “Sorry. Ya startled me, is all.”

Rain dismissed the tech with an nod of her head. “That’s all right. I think we have all the blood we’ll need for a few days.” She looked at Vin, her eyes dark with sympathy. She didn’t know why it was so hard for him to be enclosed and to have strangers around him, but she could understand it. “I just spoke to Chris. He’s on his way. I have your release papers here.” She passed the forms and a pen to him.

“Thanks. I’m sorry, Rain. I jist couldn’t.”

She nodded. “I know. Vin, you’re going to have to let Chris take care of you, you know that?”

The color still burned high on his cheekbones. “Yeah.” There was something else in his voice besides reluctance, and Rain couldn’t place it. Perhaps it was just exhaustion, she thought. “Okay, just remember that. Or else I’ll have you back in here before you can blink those blue eyes at me, is that clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Readin’ him the riot act, Rain?” Chris stood leaning against the door frame, and Vin’s heart did a thump in his chest. The impact of Rain’s words hit him hard. *...let Chris take care of you ...* Chris would be touching him, close to him ...

He startled when Chris set a gym bag on the bed next to him. “Easy, partner. We’ll get you out of here. You have the papers?”

Vin looked at the release forms in his hands; the print wavered illegibly in front of his eyes. Damn fucked up brain wasn’t gonna cooperate. He frowned, saw a blank line and scribbled his signature on it, and the date on the smaller line next to it. “That it?” he asked.

Rain took the papers. “That’s it. I’ll walk you out when you’re ready.” She left them, and Chris opened up the gym bag.

He took out a pair of dark grey sweatpants and a fleece zip front jacket that Vin could slip on without lifting his arms over his head, a thick flannel shirt, heavy socks, and athletic shoes. “You need help?”

“Prob’ly.” Vin gave him a crooked grin. “But I reckon I c’n manage th’basics.”

“Holler when you’re ready.”

Vin ran out of strength after managing to put on boxers and sweatpants. He didn’t want to call Chris, but he had little choice. “Larabee?”

Chris pulled back the curtain.

He should have been prepared. He should have known. He should have realized that seeing Vin half-dressed would make his throat go dry, his heart race, and his body rush to aching desire.

He thought of all that too late. Vin was beautiful; lean and graceful. His skin was pale from the winter months, blending to a darker gold at his throat and arms where the summer’s tan still lingered, and it had satiny gleam where it stretched over the bones of his clavicle and ribcage. His torso tapered from the breadth of his shoulders and chest, to a flat, hard belly, and narrow hips.

For a moment, Chris thought he would have to beat a retreat, shamed by his response. Then he saw the huge bruise discoloring Vin’s left shoulder, and the scars that were the proof of his young, brutal life. He found his strength to help Vin in the ache in his heart. He took a breath, “Need some help?”

Vin misread the reluctance in Larabee. “Chris ... ya don’t have ta ...” His hand drifted towards the call button.

Chris, knowing how hard it was for Vin to accept any help, particularly from strangers, shook his head. “No. No problem. The sooner we can get out of here, the happier we’ll both be. I hate hospitals. Did I ever tell you about the time ...” He continued talking in that quiet voice, his hands steady, and his heart pounding, as he helped Vin dress.

Despite his caution, some contact was inevitable, and Vin felt each touch acutely; the scrape of a fingernail, the warmth of a breath, the scent of Chris as he bent near. It made his nerves sing, left him lightheaded, and he was grateful that he had his injures as an excuse for his trembling and his quickened respiration. And it was partly true; by the time his shoes were tied, and the fleece jacket on, Vin’s various hurts were wreaking havoc on his overtaxed system. He let Chris swing his legs back on the bed, and he lay against the pillows and closed his eyes.

Chris looked down at him. “Partner, you sure you’re ready to get out of here?”

Vin’s eyes shot open. “Hell, yes! Y’ain’t putting me through this jist t’turn around and go back -- kill us both.”

Chris laughed. “Yeah. It would.” He picked up a small paper cup with two pills in it. Darvocet. “Take these, Vin. No arguments.” He dropped them into Vin’s open hand and poured him a glass of water. “I’ll get Rain, and we’re gone.”

*********************

The pain pills put Vin out for most of the drive to Chris’ ranch. He sat slumped in the seat, his head nestled into the angle of seatback and window. He’d folded a sweatshirt that Chris kept in the truck under his head for a pillow, and slept better than he had in the hospital.

Chris glanced over at Tanner occasionally, marveling that he could sleep wedged into such an uncomfortable position. But the sharpshooter’s face was peaceful, and his body relaxed. Chris had managed to put his confused feelings aside for a while, but now they came flooding back as he watched Vin.

Whatever his feelings, they weren’t going to vanish. They weren’t misplaced hormones, or adolescent lust. He had never in his life wanted another man. Curiosity had played some part in his upbringing, as it did in every normal youth -- but once he had harnessed his sexuality, it had been focused on women -- and when he’d met Sarah, he had not wanted or needed anyone else.

Buck had been amused by his single-minded devotion. Even when he and Sarah were just dating, Chris had ignored the other women who’d been hanging around him, waiting for their relationship to founder. Buck had said it wasn’t natural, the way Chris just didn’t even notice those women. It hadn’t stopped Buck from doing his damndest to console them.

God, what would Buck say if he knew about *this* longing fire that was consuming his friend?

Probably nothing. He’d be so dumbfounded that he wouldn’t be able to say a word. Then there was the frightening possibility that he would reject Chris entirely, revolted by the idea that his best friend was turning into a fag. Chris winced at that crude term, knowing Buck, in his big-hearted way, didn’t have an ounce of prejudice in him. But that didn’t mean he’d understand what was happening. How could he, when Chris didn’t understand it himself?

Vin moved in his sleep, a sigh coming from between slightly parted lips, and Chris felt his body stirring, like it was being called to some sort of home. He’d felt that way once before. Sarah.

No. It couldn’t be like that. What he’d felt for Sarah had been sacred. What he was feeling for Vin had to be wrong -- but it didn’t feel wrong, or ugly, or any of the other words they used for those feelings. But its not being wrong, didn’t make it right, either. And he wasn’t willing to risk losing what he already shared with Tanner. If he destroyed that, it would be like killing a part of himself.

His hands tightened on the steering wheel. The road in front of him stretched out into darkness, but he reckoned he knew the way home. He wished he could be as certain about his heart.

******************

He woke Vin when they were about ten minutes away from the ranch. He reached over and realized that he couldn’t grasp his shoulder, or jostle his arm. He gently ran the back of his knuckles down the sharpshooter’s stubbled cheek, and Vin opened bleary eyes. “What?”

“Almost home.”

“Oh.” He yawned hugely. “Never could figger out why anybody would want t’take drugs. S’like wading through molasses.”

“It takes away the pain.”

Vin’s brow arched. “Rather have the pain, and keep m’wits. Y’stay alive longer that way.”

Chris wouldn’t ask him how he knew that. It was a lesson that nobody as young as Vin should have to learn. Hell, it was one that Chris wasn’t sure he had learned yet. His drug of choice had been a bottomless bottle of alcohol after Sarah and Adam had died. He didn’t believe he would have been better off feeling all that pain. And he was still alive.

They pulled up the long drive. The porch light was on a timer, but the rest of the sprawling ranch-style house was dark. Chris brought the truck right up to the porch, got out and opened Vin’s door. He reached into the back of the cab and pulled out the crutches that Rain had foisted on Vin, over his objections.

He eyed them uneasily. “Cain’t use them, Chris. My shoulder’s too sore.”

Chris threw them back into the truck. “C’mon. Lean on me.” He slipped beneath Vin’s right arm, put his arm around Tanner’s waist, and together they made it up the three steps to the porch. Chris turned his key and pushed the door open with his foot. He flipped the light switch, and the hall was bathed in a welcoming golden glow.

“We’ll head on to the den. I haven’t had time to set up the bedroom.”

“Hell, Chris. Ya don’t hafta go through so much trouble. Couch’ll do me jist fine.”

Chris snorted with laughter. “Trouble is what Rain will cause us both, pard, if she finds out I ain’t been taking good care of you.”

“I won’t tell her.”

“She’ll know,” Chris said darkly. “Women always know.” He and Vin made their way to the den. Still supporting Tanner’s weight, Chris turned on a lamp by the couch, and carefully lowered him to the cushions. He missed the feel of him as he let him down, but judging by the boneless way he settled, he was exhausted.

“I’ll get the room set, and fix something for dinner. Chicken soup sound good?”

Vin managed a crooked grin. “Better ‘n what they’s trying to force feed me at the hospital.” His mouth drew hard with pain. “I’d offer t’help, but I figger since I’m company an’ all ...”

“Damn sorry-assed Texan.”

“Yeah.” He closed his eyes. “I’ll jist rest here. Me an’ my sorry ass.”

Chris left, and Vin felt the silence drift around him like a comforting blanket. For being places where people went to get rest and heal, there sure wasn’t much peace to be found in a hospital. Out here, a man could breathe again. And then there was Chris ...

It hurt knowing that Chris would never want him the way he was wanted. There were times the pain of longing was just about unbearable. But Vin had grown used to pain, figured there was no such thing as a life without it -- not one that he’d ever known, anyways. He was willing to bear that pain in exchange for Chris’ friendship. He was willing to take those small kindnesses, the warmth of laughter, the *knowing* of Larabee’s mind, in exchange for the physical relationship he craved. He would live with those moments, because he couldn’t live without them.

He sighed, opened his eyes, and looked around the room he loved. It embodied everything he’d never had; comfort, security, beauty, peace. He knew that when the curtains were opened, and the wide doorway leading to the deck was revealed, there was a vista spread before him that made his soul feel free. He knew that when Chris came back, he would light a fire, and that glow would surround him with warmth. He knew that no matter what happened in his life, *here* he would be safe. Asking for more was just plain greedy, it seemed.

He was surrounded by things that Chris cherished. The painting over the fireplace that nearly mirrored the view of his ranch, a picture of a horse, drawn by childish hands and titled “Pony.” God, looking at the picture every day must have been like a knife in Larabee’s heart, but he kept it, and treasured it because it was all he had left of his little boy. A set of antique spurs hung at the side of the mantel, and a bone-handled revolver in a display frame, that Sarah had given to Chris for a wedding present.

Vin, with the certain perception that could startle Chris at times, realized that he was looking at Chris’ hard-won humanity, each item a symbol of a battle fought and won against grief and despair.

If he had been physically able, he would have walked over to the bookcases along the walls, and looked at the titles. Or tried to -- though with the fucked up wiring in his brain, sometimes it took him as long to read a spine as it did for most folks to read a whole shelf.

Chris’ books looked serious -- some of them leather-bound and old. Compared to his own collection of books picked up from the bargain tables at the mall, it was like being in a library. Maybe someday he’d ask Chris if he could borrow one, just to see if he could figure out why it was so important to him. Some people would wonder what on earth a man like Vin Tanner was doing thinking he could make something of those pages and pages of words when he could hardly find his way through the training manuals at work. But not Chris. He’d hold that book out, and smile, and tell Vin to take his time reading it, and not to worry. That was Chris, and that was why Vin loved him with all the unrequited devotion in his heart. It was why he would die for him, and live for him, and stand against Hell as long as Larabee was beside him.

Chris returned with the soup, served in mugs that Vin could handle even with one arm nearly useless, and slices of bread spread with butter. Glasses of orange juice and water, and an array of pills that Vin wasn’t happy to see. He knew what they were: antibiotics, iron pills, pain pills. He took them under Chris’ watchful eye, and then turned his attention to the food.

When he had finished, he set the mug down with a sigh. “That was good, Chris. Thanks.” He lay his head against the back of the couch and closed his eyes.

“You ready to turn in? You’ve had a hell of a day, pard.”

Vin regarded him from half-closed lids. “Reckon so.” He wondered if he had the strength to move.

Chris looked at him; pale, exhausted, obviously in pain. “You’d rather sleep here?” he asked.

“Yeah, I would. Don’t think I c’n drag my sorry ass down that hallway, Chris.”

“I’d hate to tell you how many nights I’ve spent here for just that reason,” Chris said, smiling. “Be right back with blankets. I put your toothbrush and things in the lavatory.”

The lavatory was just off the off the hall, a few paces away from the den. Vin managed to limp over to it without keeling over. He looked at his reflection in the mirror and groaned. *Tanner, ya look like shit.* Didn’t feel much better, either. It was an effort just to take care of the basic demands of his body. When he had washed up and brushed his teeth, he made his way back to the den, leaning onto the wall for support.

Chris was spreading a blanket over the sheets covering the couch. Vin moved slowly away from the wall, lurched forward, and felt himself caught by Larabee’s strong arms. He sat on the edge of the cushions. The pain pills he had taken, combined with fatigue, were nearly incapacitating. The room was starting to wheel around him, and he closed his eyes, hoping the vertigo would subside.

Chris took off Vin’s shoes, unzipped the fleece jacket and slipped it as gently as he could down his arms. He figured the flannel shirt and sweatpants were as good as any pajamas, and twice as warm, which he knew the Texan craved. Thinnest blood he’d ever come across, even when it was at full supply. Vin tipped over on his right side, curled into a ball, and was out for the duration.

Chris stared down at him. He reached out a trembling hand, and carefully, so carefully, touched Vin’s hair -- just the briefest of caresses, but the first he had allowed himself -- the first acknowledgement of emotions he had denied for too long. He sat in the armchair set at an angle to the couch and studied Vin’s face.

Couldn’t see much beneath that tumble of brown curls. He didn’t have to see Vin’s features to know them by heart; the strength and vulnerability in those fine bones, the square jaw and hard chin, the mouth that could twisted into a wry grin, or curved into a breathtaking smile. The blue eyes that saw so much, and gave away so little.

Chris scrubbed a hand over his forehead. Jesus, how long had he been looking at Vin with the eyes of a lover? Longer than he was willing to admit.

Well, he’d admit it now. He was in love with Vin, God help him. And he did not know what to do about it.

He stared into the fire for a long time, but the answers weren’t written in the flames. His eyes burned with fatigue, and he gave up the fight, making sure that Vin was settled and warm enough before he went to bed.

TBC

*********************  
Part Two

Vin woke to pain. The injured muscles in his leg had knotted into a fiery cramp, and his shoulder had stiffened and was aching fiercely. He sat up, fighting against the dregs of the analgesics in his blood. He felt thick-headed and dry-mouthed, hot and shivery at the same time. Chris had set a plastic pitcher of water and the bottle of Darvocet on the coffee table. Vin didn’t want to take more medication, but he poured a glass of water and drank it down.

Judging from the pale light leaking through the edges of the drapes, it was nearly dawn, and he knew Chris fed the horses before he went off to work for the day. He’d be coming in soon, and Vin hoped he could keep the pain inside so Chris would carry on as usual. Last thing Vin wanted was to hold him someplace where he didn’t want to be.

Pain made time pass slowly, and it seemed that with every second that ticked off the clock, he hurt more, until the world seemed to shrink down to the core of hurt that was his body. He lay still, trying to keep his breathing level and slow, trying not to move, trying to focus on something outside his body’s ragged nerves.

He heard a door open, water running, and knew Chris was up. God, help me hold on, he prayed. Just for a little while longer. All he had to do was be still and pretend that he was sleeping, and Chris would leave him alone. He felt tears burning in his eyes and squeezed them tight for a minute. He could do this ... he had to. He held on to that thought with all the strength he had.

Somehow he knew when Chris was there. He felt that presence as sure as if Larabee had spoken to him.

Chris stood over Vin for a minute, not liking what he was seeing at all. The stillness in that body wasn’t good, it wasn’t natural. He had been injured often enough himself to recognize the tension of a man determined not to aggravate pain by moving a muscle, and the consciously measured respiration of someone pretending to sleep.

“Vin?” Nothing.

“Vin?” he repeated gently. “I know you’re not sleeping. So you might as well stop playin’ ‘possum.”

The hunched shoulder moved slightly. “Yeah?” Just a breath.

“Take your pills.”

“Took the antibiotic,” Vin rasped. “Leave me alone, Larabee. I feel like shit.”

“That’s why Rain prescribed those painkillers, Tanner.”

“No!” The edge of desperation was like a razor in Vin’s voice.

“Partner, is there some reason you don’t want to take them, other than proving how tough you are?” Chris asked, not understanding, but beginning to worry.

A faint, weary smile. “Yeah.”

Silence. Damn Tanner anyway! “I’m waiting.”

If Vin were any other man, that tone of voice would have set him upright into instant response. But Vin wasn’t any other man, and he was hurting to damn much for that threat to have much effect. But instead of anger, Chris put a gentle hand on Vin’s arm. “Talk to me, partner. I won’t sick Rain or Nathan on you, and I won’t force anything down your throat. I promise.”

Kindness accomplished what rage had failed. Grimacing, Vin struggled to sit, his lips growing white with the effort; but when Chris tried to help him, Vin pushed his arm away. “I’m all right,” he gasped.

Chris backed off. He sat in the armchair and waited until Vin was more or less upright. He hated seeing the pain etched on the younger man’s face, hated that he felt he had to hide it, and hated most of all, that there was nothing he could do to help.

“You tell me, Vin,” he said quietly. “You have my word.”

Vin moistened his lips. “Nightmares, most of all, I reckon. I mean -- when I take the pills, I git nightmares. And ...” He looked away from Chris, as if he were about to reveal a shameful secret. “I was hooked on ‘em once, Chris. Don’t think I could stand that again.”

“When?” Shit. None of this had shown up on Tanner’s record.

“Before I’s in the army. I was jist seventeen and on th’streets.” He gave Chris a wary look, and saw nothing that he needed to fear. “Hell, ya know what it’s like out there fer a kid. We see ‘em every day, livin’ like animals. That’s what it was like fer me. Hand ta mouth and day t’day. Tryin’ t’keep yerself safe, an’ not always succeedin’ too well.” His voice died softly.

Chris knew. He tried to imagine Vin, slight as he was even now, surviving in those conditions, with predators on the loose, day after day. “Jesus ...” He didn’t know it sounded like a prayer.

Vin felt as if he was strangling on the words in his throat. He knew what Chris was thinking, and he could not deny that his life had been every bit as ugly and sordid as he was imagining it. Larabee was tenacious, though, and wouldn’t give up until the story was told. Vin didn’t know which was harder, not taking pain pills, or telling Chris the truth; but something in those green eyes kept him talking. “You fight ‘em off sometimes, sometimes ya give in. Ya try t’have a choice. Don’t always work. One a’ the times it didn’t work ...” Vin choked back for a moment. Chris was reaching out for him, and he flinched away. “ ... Anyway, I’s beat up pretty bad, broke my leg. Shinbone -- jist snapped in two like a rotten twig.”

It was Chris’ turn to flinch, and Vin couldn’t meet his eyes, ashamed of what he had just admitted. “First time they set it, didn’t git it quite right, and it got infected. So they had t’break it again.” Smiled a bit at the wince that crossed Larabee’s face. “Least I’s off the streets for three months. The shit they gave me for the pain was too much. But I wanted it Chris. God, I wanted it so bad. Reckon I was too dumb to know what was happenin’ to me. Bein’ a charity case an’ all, when I overstayed my welcome, they jist put me out -- They never figgered that I was hooked on the drugs they’s givin’ me fer pain.”

“Cold turkey?” Chris asked, appalled.

Vin nodded. “Cain’t go through that again, Chris. Hell, I don’t even like takin’ aspirin, you know that.” He sank back on the couch, worn out.

Chris reached for the phone and called Rain. Vin closed his eyes, and only vaguely heard Chris asking for a prescription that wasn’t habit-forming. He heard him call Buck, and tell him that he wouldn’t be coming into the office. He was making another call, one that required a hushed tone, and Vin felt a little sick.

He added up all the things he had told Chris in that bleak recital of poverty, shame, and abuse. Maybe Chris wouldn’t want him on the team anymore. If he was very lucky, Chris wouldn’t tell the others, and he could stay on the job.

He wondered what to do now that Chris knew the truth. Leave the ranch and go home. Hope the elevator was working. Once he was up there, he’d be all right. Been hurt and alone before, and he’d survived. Chris would never ask him to leave, so he would have to convince Larabee that he was *able* to leave. He’d gotten as far as trying to swing his legs to the floor, when Chris bounded over, glaring at him.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

*Shit.* Vin drew in a breath. “Home.”

“I don’t think so, cowboy. You plannin’ on walking?” Larabee stood there, one blond brow aslant, hands on those slim hips. Vin’s throat got tight, and this time it wasn’t from reluctance or fear. Best he’d leave anyways, feeling as he did about Chris. One hint of that, and he’d lose everything.

“If I have to.” He braced himself on the arm of the couch and forced himself to stand. He was able to maintain that defiant stance for all of five seconds before the world tilted beneath him and he sank back down with a gasp. He buried his head in his hands.

“Yeah, I can see you’re ready to run the Denver marathon, pard.” There was a hint of amusement in his voice, but his eyes were sad. Vin couldn’t see that though. “Why leave?” Chris asked finally.

“Hell, ya cain’t want me here, not after what I jist told ya.”

Vin’s drawl was getting the better of him; soft, slurred, and hopeless. It tore Chris’ heart out. “What -- what does that have to do with anything?” He tried to keep his voice even.

“I jist told ya that I been fucked six ways from Sunday, been a junkie, been throwed aside like trash. Ain’t exactly what you’d want fer a friend.”

Those words hit Chris so hard that his knees nearly buckled. Then like a match igniting his temper, red rage burned so hot that he had to physically move away from Vin to expend it. He took two quick paces away, two quick paces back. “What the hell kind of man do you think I am? What kind of friend?” The rage curled in his voice, waiting to explode like wildfire, and Vin heard it and shrank away as if the heat of it scorched him.

“Chris ... ya didn’t know --”

“Damn right, I didn’t know! Jesus! You tell me what you were ten years ago -- and I’m supposed to throw you out on the streets, because I don’t like it?” Vin lifted his head, and the agony in those blue eyes took all the heat out of Chris’ anger. He ran a hand over his hair, took another two short paces, then sat down across from Vin, his wrists loose over his knees. He leaned forward and spoke softly, gently.

“Maybe I should answer my own questions,” he said. “Maybe the kind of life you led, you don’t know the answers, and if I thought you did, maybe I was wrong.” His green eyes darkened. “Vin, look at me, please.” He waited for a moment, until he did. “I ain’t the kind of man who holds what happened ten years ago against a friend. I ain’t the kind of man who’s gonna hate you for what you were forced to do by circumstance, and I damn sure ain’t gonna hold you responsible for the acts of those monsters who abused you in ways I don’t even want ta think on.”

“Wouldn’t blame ya if you did,” Vin said breathlessly. “Wouldn’t blame ya if you walked away. Most ever’one else has.”

“I ain’t the walkin’ away kind of friend, Vin. And what you told me stays in this room. I swear it.”

Vin looked up, hope blazing. And then it was all too much; the strength of will and pride that had been holding him upright vanished like a wisp of smoke in a breeze. Chris saw that blue gaze go unfocused, saw the blood leave Tanner’s lips, and he moved to catch him as he fell forward. He cradled that slim body, his blond head bent protectively, his hands tangled in Tanner’s long hair. His lips brushed the soft curls. “It’s all right, partner. I got you. And God help me, I ain’t never lettin’ go.”

**************************

Nathan arrived at the ranch an hour after Chris had called him, bringing the new pain medication, and worried about both of his friends. He’d been able to feel the tension in Larabee’s voice clear through the wires. Chris had told him not to knock or ring the bell in case Vin was sleeping, so he pushed open the door and quietly came into the hallway.

“Chris?”

No answer, and Nathan didn’t like that. He went down the hall to the den, and looked in. Saw Chris sitting in the armchair he’d drawn close to the couch, and Vin, curled on his side. Both men were sleeping, and judging from the hollows beneath Larabee’s eyes, he needed the rest as much as Tanner.

Nathan didn’t like waking either of them. He set the bag with the pills in it down on the coffee table, and went into the kitchen. There was coffee brewed in the pot, and he poured a cup and put it in the microwave. Driving for an hour back to the city didn’t seem too appealing at the moment. When the coffee was hot, he returned to the den and sat in the other armchair, waiting.

Gradually, the aroma of the coffee, and the instinctive knowledge of another presence, woke Chris. He opened his eyes, blinked at Nathan, and sat upright. “You been here long?”

“Half an hour. No more.” He glanced over at Vin. “How is he?”

“Worn out, Nate.”

“You check his leg yet?”

Chris shook his head. “I know it’s hurting him. I’m no doctor. I couldn’t see forcing more pain on him than he’s already carrying.”

“He wouldn’t take the pills?”

“No. But at least I know why.” His voice dropped, and he inclined his head towards the hallway. “I wouldn’t mind some of that coffee.”

Nathan understood. Whatever Chris had to say, he didn’t want to wake Vin with it. He followed Larabee to the kitchen, sat at the table, and waited until Chris settled.

He sipped his coffee, trying to decide how much to reveal to Nathan, and then decided he didn’t need to say much. He told him about the broken leg, about the failure of the doctors to wean Vin from the drugs. “He must have gone through hell, Nathan. You’ve seen junkies in withdrawal. He was seventeen.”

“Shit.” Nathan shook his head sadly. “Explains a lot.”

“You sure what Rain prescribed isn’t addictive?”

“Chris, that coffee you’re drinkin’ can be addictive. But the prescription is non-narcotic. Long as he follows the prescribed dosage, he’ll be all right. An’ knowin’ Vin, he ain’t gonna take it long enough t’develop a habit.” He peered into Larabee’s haggard face. “What about you? You’re lookin’ ragged about the edges, yourself.”

Chris smiled, denied it. “No, I’m just tired. And worried. Jesus, Nate ...” He scrubbed his eyes.

Nate grasped his forearm reassuringly. “You want me t’stay till he wakes up?”

Chris breathed a sigh. “Yeah, I would.” He didn’t realize until Nathan offered, how much he was dreading changing that bandage. Didn’t know if he could stand that physical closeness, or the pain he would cause to that suddenly dear flesh.

“Then why don’t you git some rest? You been goin’ without fer two nights.”

“Thanks.” He got up and stretched the kinks from his lean frame. Before he went to his bedroom, he returned to the den. He stood looking down at Tanner. The sharpshooter’s forehead was creased in a frown, and his mouth was drawn with pain, but he still slept, as if that were the only refuge he had from hurt. Chris ran a light forefinger along the arc of one high cheekbone.

Nathan saw that gesture; the look of longing and tenderness on Larabee’s hard face, and retreated into the hallway. Chris Larabee was not a man to wear his emotions on his sleeve, and to see his heart revealed shook Nathan to the core. He waited until Chris had left the den before he stepped inside. Like Chris, he stood first over Tanner, gazing down at the sleeping man.

Man? He looked more like a weary, wounded boy, very slight under the covers, tumbled curls spilling over his face. Nathan thought of the ATF agent who seemed to be able to divorce himself from all emotion when he was taking a shot, who was willing to throw himself in harm’s way for the sake of his friends’ lives, who sat in silence so often, a silence that Nathan sensed held deeper secrets than he would ever reveal.

But from the beginning, Larabee and Tanner had seemed to *know* each other. Seemed to have a link or a bond between them. Like calling to like. Even Buck went so far as to call it spooky, and Josiah had just sighed and quoted Shakespeare: *“There are more things under heaven, Horatio ...”* his eyes gleaming with wise amusement. Well, Nathan sure wished he had some of that wisdom, because he didn’t know how to deal with what he had seen.

Didn’t know how Chris was going to deal with it either. But that wasn’t his call. That was between Chris and Vin. Nathan sat down and slid his spine into a slouch. He’d do his best to take care of Tanner’s body, but he had a feeling that Vin’s heart was in Chris Larabee’s care.

********************

Vin unglued one eye cautiously. Silence. He took a physical inventory. He still hurt, but the deep pain from his wound had faded to a bearable scream. His shoulder was stiff and sore, but that, too seemed tolerable. His gaze traveled up the form in the chair opposite him. “Nathan?” he croaked from a throat that was as dry as the desert.

“Hey there, Vin. How’re you doin’?” Nathan sat on the edge of the couch and poured a glass of water from the pitcher. “Take it slow, now. Don’t want it coming right back up.”

“Thanks, Nate.”

“Yeah, well, y’ain’t gonna be thankin’ me for long. We’re gonna take a little walk down to the bathroom so I kin change that bandage.”

Vin’s mouth twisted into a grimace. “’S’all right. I’s gonna ask ya t’take me anyways.” Somehow, having Nathan’s help with those intimate functions didn’t seem quite as embarrassing. Maybe because he’d been a medic and had seen pretty much everything a man could see and done worse than helping a friend piss.

He sat on the toilet while Nathan cut through the old dressing on his leg. The wound was swollen, bruised, and stitched. And it ached clear down to the bone, but Nathan seemed satisfied with the healing process. He cleaned it gently with an antiseptic wash, and then bandaged it again. “Looks good, Vin. Rain’ll want t’take a look at them stitches in a day or so.”

“Okay.”

“She gave me some non-narcotic painkillers. I want you to take them, you hear?”

Vin nodded. “Chris tell ya why I didn’t want to take the other ones?”

“Told me you’d been through a rough withdrawal when you were seventeen.” He looked down at Tanner’s shin, where there was a scar and a slight, raised ridge on the long bone. That the leg?”

“Yeah. Reckon it’s marked me. Leg’s a bit shorter n’the other one. S’pose that’s why I’m always leanin’. T’even myself out.”

“Your back bother you?”

“Some. ” He was growing restless under Nathan’s medical scrutiny. “Ya finished, doc?”

“I am.” He helped Vin stand and hitched up the sweatpants. “You hungry?”

“I could eat somethin’”. Suddenly aware he asked, “Where’s Chris?”

“Sleepin’. Man’s wore out.” Nathan gave Vin a sidelong look. “It ain’t your fault, so stop lookin’ guilty, Tanner.”

Vin opened his mouth to protest, and then gave him a lopsided, wistful grin. “Jist wish I wasn’t so much trouble.”

“Well, Larabee ain’t complaining, so jes’ let it ride, okay?” Vin nodded, and Nathan held up his hand. “Wait. I have something for you.” He vanished outside the door, and popped back in a few seconds later with the crutches in his hand. “These weren’t doin’ you any good in Larabee’s truck.”

Vin took one crutch and hitched it beneath his right arm. “Shoulder’s too sore fer the other one, Nate.” The healer nodded, but he stayed close as Vin slowly made his way to the kitchen.

By the time he lowered himself into one of the ladder-back chairs, the effort of maneuvering the crutch and fighting off pain had left a light start of sweat on his skin. He was weak, but sitting around doing nothing wasn’t going to make him stronger. He wouldn’t use his own frailty as an excuse to be near Larabee. Chris might swear he wasn’t a walkin’ away friend, but that didn’t mean he wanted Vin, with his reminders of his ugly past, close for too long.

Nathan set a glass of water and three pills in front of him. “Two pain pills, and the antibiotic.” He watched as Vin took them obediently. “Now, food. Let’s see what Chris has here ...” He rummaged through the refrigerator, grateful that Chris kept it well-stocked, and not with just frozen dinners. “Soup?” he asked.

“Had some yesterday.”

Nathan sighed. “Vin, ya gotta have something.” He opened up the plastic container of soup, put some in a bowl, heated it in the microwave, and set it in front of Vin. “Eat.”

Not eating was more trouble than appeasing Nathan, so he ate, and after a few swallows, his appetite kicked in and he finished the bowl hungrily. Bread and butter appeared, and a jar of honey that the healer knew Vin liked.

Nathan poured them both cups of coffee, and they sat together, talking a bit about work, arguing genially about sports, trading a few stories from past jobs. As Vin talked, Nathan saw a side of the quiet sharpshooter he rarely revealed; quick wit and dry humor, an understated pride in his accomplishments, at times a wistful awareness in those blue eyes that he had lost much that he could never reclaim. And Nathan found that immensely sad.

Vin’s back was to the door, so he did not see Chris standing there, but Nathan did. He saw that Chris had seen and heard what he had heard; for a moment his dark eyes and Chris’ green ones met in perfect comprehension.

Chris didn’t know why that understanding should come as a surprise, or why Nathan’s knowledge didn’t cause him shame or fear; just a sort of peace that his secret was safe in the healer’s hands.

He coughed, stepped quietly into the kitchen, wandered over to the coffee pot. He poured a mug and joined Nathan and Vin at the table.

He fixed Vin with a look. “You feelin’ better?”

“Reckon so.”

Nathan snorted. “Feelin’ better, ‘cause you took your medicine and ate a decent meal. Chris, you keep your eye on him. Make sure he keeps behavin’ himself.” He looked at his watch. “I’m headin’ back to town. You need anything, call someone else.” But he smiled when he said it.

Chris grinned. “Sure. We’ll call Rain.” Nathan scowled, and Chris pushed himself away from the table. “I’ll walk y’out. I’ve got some paperwork for Buck to take care of.”

The paperwork was a myth. The two men stood at the door. Chris waited until Nathan had buttoned up his jacket before he spoke. “Thanks, Nate.”

“He’ll be fine, Chris. Try to keep him off that leg as much as possible for a few days. Make sure he takes his meds, gets his rest, eats right.”

Chris nodded. “I’ll take care of him.”

“Chris?” The hesitant tone in the healer’s voice made Chris suddenly wary. Nathan watched the green eyes harden. “He trusts you.” That was all.

If Nathan had handed him a knife, he could not have given Chris a more lethal weapon. “You don’t have to tell me that,” Chris said, his voice gone soft and desolate. Nathan didn’t know what to say. He nodded at Larabee, and stepped outside into the cold He was very glad that an hour away, Rain was waiting for him.

*****************  
Vin sat in the kitchen, his hands wrapped around the slowly cooling mug. Now that the fog of pain and exhaustion was wearing off, he felt as if every nerve ending in his body was sensitive to the slightest stimulation: the brush of air coming through the registers, the sound of the refrigerator running, the rush of his own blood through his body. Vin drew a deep breath and held on tighter. Chris would come back to the kitchen, and he would have to hide every emotion, every thought, every impulse.

He could do that; he’d been doing it for most of his life. He had accepted that Chris would never be more than a friend, but that hadn’t stopped him from falling in love with the man. He didn’t doubt that what he felt for Larabee was love. The power of it was like standing with his face raised up to a thunderstorm with awe, fear, and exhilaration coursing through his veins. That was what he felt when Chris was nearby.

He would take his medications, he would obey Rain’s orders to the letter, he would rest and get well, and then he would light out as fast and as far as he could from Chris Larabee’s ranch and go back to Purgatorio where he belonged.

He was so deep in his thoughts that the touch of Chris’ hand on his shoulder made him gasp. It was like a bolt of lightning from that storm had struck to his heart. Startled, he had no time to compose his emotions, no time to veil his eyes. Wide and blue, unguarded, they met Chris’.

An ocean couldn’t have been deeper, the sky more clear than those eyes. To save his soul Chris couldn’t have looked away, any more than he could have stopped his heart from beating. His hand moved from Vin’s shoulder, to cup the back of his neck beneath the fall of curls. His thumb caressed the angle of Tanner’s jaw, and he bent his head and kissed him.

A soft moan escaped Vin’s lips and breathed its way into Chris’ mouth. Conscious of the softness of those lips framed by the rasp of beard, the taste of coffee, the tang of salt, the unfamiliarity and the familiarity of that kiss, the leap of the pulse in Vin’s jaw; Chris wanted more. His tongue rimmed Vin’s lower lip, and for a moment, he felt Tanner’s mouth yield in surprise. Suddenly, Vin twisted his head, breaking the kiss, leaving Chris bereft and breathless.

Vin pushed himself away from the table, reaching for the crutch and slipping it beneath his arm; haste making him clumsy and shock making him weak. He clung to the crutch and looked at Chris with startled, panicked eyes. Chris took a step towards him, and Vin held out his hand flat, warning him away. “No,” he whispered hoarsely. “Ain’t lettin’ ya do this t’yerself. Or t’me ... cain’t take it, Chris. Jist stay away!” He wielded the crutch awkwardly but efficiently, fleeing the kitchen before Chris could catch his breath to ask him what he meant, or realize the impact of that kiss on them both.

Chris stared after him, then sank down in a chair and thrust his fingers through his hair. Dear God, what had he done? What had he destroyed with that unguarded action? His friendship with Vin, his trust, the bond that linked them to the other member of the team? Peace of mind, and ease of body? His immortal soul? It was all too much to fathom, and Chris suddenly had to get out of the house.

He grabbed his coat from the rack in the hall, then paused. He looked into the den. Vin wasn’t there. He knocked on the guest bedroom door. “Vin?” his voice sounded stiff and hoarse.

“What?” Terse.

“I’m goin’ out.”

“I ain’t stoppin’ ya.”

Chris’ heart sank “Vin?”

“What?” Impatience, a bite of anger in that raspy drawl.

“Be here when I get back, please.”

Silence. He heard the creak of the bedframe, but that was all. He rested his splayed hand on the wood, laid his cheek against the door, and prayed that Vin would listen to him.

When he heard nothing else, he stepped away from the door. He went outside and got in the truck and drove. He wasn’t even conscious of the roads he took. When he pulled to a stop, he was in front of the halfway house where Josiah volunteered as a counselor. His mind had led his body where it needed to be. He turned off the ignition and sat, unwilling despite his presence to take the first step.

He was still sitting there when a heavy hand rapped on his window. Chris rolled the glass down, and Josiah peered in. “You sitting out here for a particular reason, brother?” Josiah grinned.

Chris smiled. “Thought I’d check this place out.”

“Come on in, then. No sense in freezing.” He opened the door, and Chris climbed out. He followed Josiah inside. It was quieter than he’d imagined. Clean and simply furnished. A couple of young men sat watching TV in a comfortable room off the central hall. Laughter came from the dining room where another counselor was eating with some of the residents. Josiah’s eyes gleamed with quiet pride as he showed off the facility to Chris. Eventually, they made their way to Josiah’s tiny office.

“Have a seat, Chris. Put down some of the load you’re carting around. Coffee?”

“Sure.” He took a mug from Josiah. Sat staring into the depths.

Josiah waited patiently. There was something eating at Team Seven’s leader. He’d noticed it for several weeks -- not that Larabee had let it interfere with his duties -- and a less perceptive observer might not have seen it at all. He was also perceptive enough to let the words come to Chris, and not push him to talk before he was ready.

Chris drank a sip of the hot coffee. He didn’t look at Josiah, but some of the tension left his shoulders. “Josiah, is it ever a sin to love someone?”

“Only if you hurt yourself or someone else in that lovin’.”

“Even if it’s something that others might not understand?”

“No one else can understand your heart, Chris. No one can say that your lovin’ is wrong or right but yourself. There’s some who’d say I was wrong to tell ya that, but I don’t believe the Lord would give us the capacity to love and then say we can’t use that gift ‘less someone gives us permission.”

Chris nodded. “I loved Sarah with all I had in me, Josiah. And when she died, I thought I’d never feel that way again, never care again. I thought I could live like that.”

Josiah laughed softly. “A saint couldn’t live like that, brother! If you were the kind of man that could, then I’d be willing t’bet Sarah wouldn’t have fallen in love with you in the first place. And I’m willin’ t’bet that she wouldn’t begrudge you fallin’ in love again.”

Chris shook his head. “Wish I could believe that. The last thing in the world I want is to shame her memory.” He sighed. “I’m tired of fightin’ against it, Josiah.”

“Maybe she’s the one who put the love back in your heart.” Josiah cocked a grey brow. “Stop fightin’, Chris. The more you fight, the more you hurt, and the more you hurt the person you love.”

“What if they don’t know?” Chris whispered. He put the mug down on Josiah’s desk and scrubbed a weary hand over his eyes. “And what do you do if they don’t or can’t love you back?”

“Seems like a lot of ‘ifs’. Maybe you should try to get rid of a few before you start borrowin’ heartache.”

Chris had to laugh at that pragmatic advice. “Damn, Josiah. You make it sound simple. And it ain’t. Not at all.”

“I never said it was simple. You’ve got a complicated heart, Chris Larabee. So sometimes you have to smooth the way, is all.”

Chris stood up. “Thanks, Josiah. I’ll think on what you said.”

“Give up the power, Chris. Let your heart find its true path, and you’ll be all right.” He laid his hand on Chris’ shoulder. “You tell Vin t’take it easy.”

“I will.” It wasn’t until he was back in the truck, that the significance of Josiah’s words struck home. Seemed like the whole world knew what was in his heart but Vin, the one person who *needed* to know. He drove back to the ranch in the fading daylight. The capricious weather had turned again, bringing a light rain and warmer temperatures. He started the wipers and turned on the radio. Garth Brooks, *Shameless.* He listened to the lyrics, the wipers moving in syncopation with the music, and the lyrics echoing Josiah’s words and his own life.

When he reached the top of the slight rise overlooking his ranch, he braked to a stop. The house was dark, but for one light in the den calling him home.

*********************

After he heard Chris drive away, Vin lay on his bed, hurting in body and heart. He still felt the touch of Chris’ mouth on his, tasted him, ached for him. Lord, how he had wanted to respond to that intimacy with all the ardor and love in him, but he had held back; first out of shock, then out of pride and a strong instinct of self-protection.

That heart-wrenching admission to Chris had only been one link in the chain of abuse and betrayal binding him to his past. He had been hurt badly, and it seemed that no sooner had his heart built up a layer a scar tissue, than someone ripped it away again, leaving him exposed and wounded. He couldn’t live like that, couldn’t trust anyone, couldn’t let another man take one more piece of him. Not even one he loved with his whole heart and soul.

That kiss which had shaken him so deeply, apparently had been nothing more than a sexual curiosity to Larabee. He’d been so repelled by it that he’d taken off like a shot. But at least Chris had asked him to stay and not ordered him out of the house. Maybe he could convince Larabee that it had been nothing to him, either. Maybe they could shrug it off and back away, and someday their friendship might recover. He was willing to give up a lot as long as he could stay with Team Seven, as long as he could be near Chris.

He got off the bed and limped into the den. It was growing dark, and the room was cold. There were logs and kindling in an old copper washtub near the fireplace, and Vin built up a fire and lit it. He turned on the lamp by the window, and settled on the couch, watching the dance of the flames and the play of the light on the walls.

He waited, tried to calm his mind and find the center of himself that he kept so closely guarded. Those walls had been coming down since he’d become a member of Team Seven, and now Chris Larabee in one moment of careless passion had breached them entirely, leaving him defenseless. It would take a while to build those walls up again, but he would do it piece by heartsick piece, until he was safe once more.

He heard the truck pull up on the driveway. The headlights did a sweep of the room before they were extinguished, and then he heard the slam of the door and Larabee’s boots on the porch. He sat still, waiting. The front door was opened and quietly closed. He knew Chris was standing in the doorway. His mouth went dry.

Chris’ breath left him in a whoosh of relief when he saw Vin sitting on the couch. He had been certain that he would either be gone or shut up in the bedroom. Moving carefully, as if Vin were a wild creature who would light out if startled, Chris made his way into the room and stood a bit uncertainly at the end of the couch.

“Vin, we need to talk,” he said softly. “It’s important.”

“Yeah, I reckon it is.” He paused for a moment, steeling himself for what was inevitable. “You c’n sit down, Chris. I ain’t gonna shoot ya, ‘r nothin’.”

Chris sank down in the chair and leaned forward. He was trying to work out how to approach Vin with his feelings; hesitant because he had no idea what Vin’s response would be, and afraid that no matter what he said, Vin would end up being hurt. He was past caring about himself -- he’d built up a pretty hard shell since Sarah and Adam had died. He’d survived that, and figured he’d survive this, too. There was no easy way to approach the subject but head on and eyes wide open.

“What happened earlier ...”

Vin’s heart thumped. “Why’d ya do it, Chris? Did ya think ‘cause I’s bent in some way that you could take what ya wanted?” He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice. “I’s never a whore, and I ain’t about t’take it up t’satisfy anybody’s curiosity. Not even yours.”

Chris’ stomach churned. “Jesus, Vin! What kind of man d’you think I am?” His green eyes flared with anger and hurt and he stood, pacing once more.

“I sure as Hell didn’t think you were *that* kind!” Vin shot back, fired by his own sense of hurt and betrayal.

That staggered Chris. Literally. He took a step back. “*That* kind?” he echoed.

Vin’s eyes darkened as he looked at Larabee, and a weary sadness came to him. “Chris, y’ain’t the first t’wonder what it would be like to be with another man, an’ ya won’t be the last. But it ain’t gonna be me. It cain’t be me.”

“Why?” Chris was fighting to understand Vin, fighting for this new life he was facing, and very afraid that he was about to lose the one thing that made his existence bearable.

“Do I have to spell it out for ya?” Vin asked in despair. His hands moved restlessly, and if he had the strength, he would have fled without answering Chris’ question. But he had nowhere to go, and nothing to lose. “I cain’t let ya touch me again, Chris. Because if ya did, I wouldn’t be able to stop you. I’d let ya do whatever you wanted. But when it was over, I’d have nothin’ left, ‘cause you’d have taken it all from me. Every bit of pride, an’ respect, everything I’ve been fightin’ so hard to hold on to. I love ya, Chris. But I cain’t live that way.” He reached for his crutches.

Chris’s mind was trying to wend through the maze of that speech, like following a thread through twists and turns and impossible dead ends. But somehow, he found his way to those words that meant the world to him. “Vin, wait!” He crossed to the couch, reached out a hand to take Vin’s arm, and then dropped it to his side, when he saw the startled light in his eyes. “Wait.”

Vin waited. What else could he do? He sank down on the couch.

Chris returned to the chair and tried to breathe. “How long?” he asked.

“Since I loved ya?” He smiled wistfully. “I reckon from the first moment I saw ya. Didn’t know it right away, though. I didn’t want ta love you, an’ I thought I could maybe jist live bein’ your friend and partner. But I’s wrong. I love you, and I s’pose I’ll love ya ‘til the day I die.” He sighed regretfully. “As soon as I’m up to it, I’d appreciate it if you’d put me in fer a transfer. I know I cain’t stay with th’team.”

“Don’t you think I have some say in this?” Chris asked quietly. “Vin, I’ve been going around in circles for more weeks than I can count, thinking I was insane, thinking I was sick, because of what I feel for you. I’ve been arguing it away, denying it, I was afraid I was betraying Sarah. But I was wrong. I was fighting so hard not to love you, that I lost sight of the gift she was tryin’ to give me.” He paused. “Vin, please look at me.” Dazed blue eyes came up to his. “I’ve stopped fighting.”

Chris’ words were making Vin dizzy. He passed a shaking hand over his forehead. “Chris ... I ain’t feelin’ so good, and maybe I need ya to slow down, ‘cause I think I heard ya say that you love me --”

“I did.” Chris moved slowly to sit at Vin’s side. He took that trembling hand in his, brought it to his lips. “Think you can live with that?” he asked, his voice husky with emotion.

Vin pulled his hand away, tucked it close against his side. “No.” He shook his head. “Cain’t be right, Chris. You could have anybody you wanted. Hell, I’ve seen ‘em lookin’ at you -- men and women, both.” His mouth smiled, but his eyes were sad. “You cain’t want someone like me ...”

Chris wanted to reclaim that hand, but he forced himself to be still. “Um, partner. Seems we’re talkin’ at cross purposes, here. Maybe I could have any man or woman I want, but the truth is, I want you. That’s it, plain and simple. There isn’t anyone else, there won’t be anyone else. I don’t live in your past, Vin. Maybe it’s time you didn’t either.” He brushed his thumb over Vin’s mouth, turning his face gently. “Believe me.”

“Wish I could,” he sighed and nestled his cheek against that warm palm. Larabee’s eyes were impossibly gold and green in the firelight, and the expression in them made Vin’s marvel at the softness in that hard man. “I want to.”

Chris bent his head closer, and Vin didn’t pull away. He set his mouth on Vin’s, felt a quiver of uncertainty, then touched his lips with his tongue. A rough sigh of surrender and hunger purred in Vin’s throat. His lips parted, and Chris plundered his mouth. Their tongues danced and slid across each other, tasting, feeling, seeking. Chris lost himself in that kiss; doubts, preconceptions, fears, all reduced to nothingness compared to the sweetness of Vin Tanner. He tasted so damn good! The kiss which should have been awkward, was not. Like everything else, it felt right. Felt right that this man should be in his arms, that Vin’s hard, slim body should fit his embrace; that Chris could use his strength to seduce, not to subdue.

Vin wondered how much of this was a dream, how much of it was real. He’d been wanting this for so long, that now he was in Chris’ arms, he felt weak, dizzy, his physical body overwhelmed and his heart beating like the wings of a bird against his ribs. He let Chris’ tongue play over his, felt his hands weaving through his long hair, felt his breath mingling with his own. It would have been easy to surrender everything to this man he loved. He couldn’t, not yet. Not now ...

Even so, he was not sure who broke off that kiss; himself, or Chris. Larabee drew back, his green eyes blurred with desire. He brushed the hair from Vin’s face, kissed his forehead, the hard arc of his cheekbone, the angle of his jaw. He stroked his long throat with gentle hands. “Convinced yet?”

“Jist about.” He smiled slightly before doubt crept into his voice. “Chris? I love ya, but I still cain’t let you ...”

Chris released him gently to lie against the cushions. “Partner, even if I was ready for this, you’re not. Let’s get you healed up first, and then take it real slow.” He trailed his forefinger down a curl of Vin’s hair. “The learning of this is gonna be mighty interesting.”

Vin sighed. His eyes closed and he felt Chris gather him close, hold him tucked against his chest. He could hear Chris’ heart beating, feel the rise and fall of his respiration, and the glide of muscles over bone when he moved. Chris’ warm, comforting hand began a gentle massage of his aching shoulder, and he slid crosswise over Larabee’s lap, turned his head into the curve of Chris’ body, and let the world drift away.

Chris looked down at the sleeping sharpshooter. It was the first time he was able to observe him with love and without guilt. He studied the hollows and angles of that fine-boned face; the sweep of the dark lashes against pale cheeks, the mouth that held him mesmerized with its contours and the expressions that shaped it, the waves of brown hair at Vin’s temples that caught red and gold sparks where the flames kindled the strands with light.

He was astonishingly content for somebody who had just turned his life upside down. The man sleeping in his arms was worth it all, and he would make sure that Vin never had reason to regret loving him. He’d waited a long time for Sarah, he’d wait as long as he needed to, for Vin.

TBC

************************  
Part Three

*Epilogue*

There was a light frosting of snow on the ground, and the sharp outlines of the mountains on the horizon were softened by a powdery fall on their peaks. Occasionally, a ray of sun would dart out from behind a layer of clouds, and everything glittered like diamonds had been sifted over the landscape.

Chris’ truck was just about the only traffic on the road, and as he neared the ranch, he let the speedometer inch up into illegal territory. It was Friday, after a long week, and Vin was waiting at the ranch.

Six weeks had passed since that afternoon that had changed their lives. Two of those weeks had been difficult: Vin’s wound had turned septic, and he’d wound up back in the hospital for several days until they found an antibiotic that had finally overcome the infection. The only good to come from that siege was a protracted convalescence at the ranch. Vin’s condition had forced them to be circumspect; but it had become increasingly frustrating as he healed and regained his strength to refrain from pushing the limits of endurance and need.

Still, that abstinence had not been without its pleasures. Chris now woke with Vin in his bed, tucked up tight against him. That had happened the first night Vin was back from the hospital, and his fragility had so concerned Chris that he had insisted on it, just so he could keep his eye on him. They’d never gone back to separate sleeping arrangements, though the last few mornings had been painfully interesting, and would have tried the patience of a saint. Chris was no saint. His mouth twitched as he thought of Vin homing in on his warmth like a heat-seeking missile.

There were times when just looking at the sharpshooter could bring Larabee to full and aching arousal. Vin had no awareness of how beautiful he was. Sometimes he would catch Chris watching him with ardent hunger, and he would blush like a virgin bride, which both amused and humbled Larabee. Then he would allow himself to swoop down and claim a kiss from that sweet mouth, to hold Vin’s slender body close, to breath him in and know from his response that the wanting was reciprocated by Tanner.

Thinking about it sent the blood pooling in his groin, and he shifted to ease his aching cock. He could wait, but not much longer. Despite his apprehension over the physical aspects of making love with another man, his instinctive sexual drive was becoming an urgent need that could only be slaked by losing himself in, and being claimed by,Vin.

His tires skidded on the gravel as he swung to a stop and killed the engine. The front windows were dark, unusual at this time of day, and apprehension curled in his stomach. He took the porch steps two at a time and shoved the door open. “Vin!”

Silence.

Cursing under his breath, Chris went into the den. Empty. He returned to the hall. “Vin?” A glow of light came from the entrance to the kitchen. Chris walked slowly toward it, his hand curved around the butt of his gun despite the lack of any sense of danger. He looked around the door frame, feeling ridiculously cautious to be prowling around in his own house. “Vin?” he called softly.

He stepped into the kitchen and let his hand drop from his gun. There was a piece of paper on the table. Chris picked it up, frowning. It was a lab report from Mercy Hospital, and at first he thought it was related to Vin’s recent illness. Blood work. A line caught his eye. He looked at it for a long time, then sat down at the table.

He heard soft footsteps behind him as Vin padded in, nearly silent on stocking feet. He came over to the table and hitched a hip on the corner nearest Chris. “Thought you’d like to see that.”

Chris swallowed. His throat was tight and dry. “You didn’t need to do this.”

“Yeah, I did. For both of us.” He folded his arms, and deliberately avoided looking at Chris. “I told you what it was like out on the streets, what I did, an’ what was done t’me. I wasn’t gonna take the risk of lovin’ ya without being sure I wasn’t gonna kill ya at the same time. I ain’t -- I ain’t been with anybody fer a long time, Chris. Didn’t want anybody touchin’ me. Not ‘til I met you. I jist wanted to be sure I’s safe.”

Chris looked up at him. Vin’s eyes were sparkling like sapphires. He reached out and took hold of Chris’ wrist. “So, cowboy. I figure it’s time fer us t’ride.” He pulled Chris up from the chair, moved him to stand between his legs. “Ya ready?” Those words were accompanied by a look through those long lashes and that twist of a smile that sent Chris’ blood rushing to his cock.

Vin saw the shock of delight in Larabee’s eyes and it brought a low chuckle to his throat. He took his dark sweater in his hands and brought him close enough to kiss him hungrily. God, he’d been waiting for this forever, for his entire life. He darted his tongue into Chris’ mouth, explored it; the texture, the taste, the heat and warmth.

Chris groaned and wrapped his arms around Vin’s body. Urgently, he pulled him to the edge of the table. Vin wrapped his legs tight around Larabee’s hips, bringing their crotches tight and close, the friction of fabric against aroused flesh sending shocks of pleasure racing through him.

Chris thrust his fingers through the waves of Vin’s hair; his strength bore Vin back, until he was nearly flat on the table. He could feel the arc of Tanner’s ribcage as he panted, the sharp rim of his pelvic bones through the denim jeans he wore. He brushed his hand across the hard erection he felt straining at the fabric, and Vin gasped. He worked the brass button through the loop, released it. Dragged the zipper down, slipped his hand inside the waist of Tanner’s shorts and closed his fingers around that hot flesh.

Vin cried out softly as Larabee slid his thumb over the head of his cock, the bead of moisture that had gathered lubricating the glide of his fingers. He eased forward, lifted his hips, and Chris tugged the jeans and boxers down, exposing Vin’s sex. Trembling, he held him still, and bent his head to taste his lover.

God, he had never done this before. Had never wanted to. But now he worshipped Vin with his mouth, tasting the bittersweet fluid, inhaling the heady, musky scent of sex. He laved the length of Vin’s cock with his tongue, sucked on the vein, explored the tip with fingers and tongue until Vin was nearly incoherent with pleasure and pain.

It was that slight hitch of pain that broke through Chris’ haze of pleasure. He released Vin’s hips reluctantly. “Vin, you’re hurting,” he said.

The sudden cessation of that loving attention made Vin snap, “I’ll be hurtin’ a lot worse if ya don’t finish what ya started, Larabee.”

Chris gave him a lazy smile, ran a finger down Vin’s cock, and kissed him lightly. “Oh, I’ll finish, but not here. What say you t’movin’ someplace where we can get horizontal?” He helped Vin stand, pulled his jeans back up, and with their arms wrapped around each other, they stumbled over to the den.

Chris lowered Vin to the couch, then set a match to the fire laid in the hearth. He heard the rustle of fabric, the creak of the wood frame, and smiled. He slid his shoulder holster down his arm and set the weapon aside. When he turned around, Vin was naked and waiting. He lifted an arched brow at Chris’ expression. “Cain’t be all that bad, Larabee.”

Chris swallowed. The flames were high enough to gild Vin’s body with shifting light. Lord God, but he was beautiful; slim and sleek, without an ounce of fat to hide the contours of muscle and bone. Chris drank in the sight, his eyes tracking from the crown of softly waving hair, to the wide shoulders and muscled chest, to the tapering belly, slim hips and long legs, then back to the hard cock nestled in a thatch of golden brown curls. The light glinted on the bead of semen that had gathered at the tip, and Chris prowled over to the couch.

“I’m feelin’ a mite overdressed, pard.” His voice was thick with passion as he knelt beside Vin and ran his palms over his chest. Vin’s nipples pebbled at the touch, and Chris rubbed the tips gently between his fingers, making Tanner gasp and his eyes darken with pleasure. Chris caught his lower lip between his teeth, teased it with his tongue and then withdrew.

Vin was watching him with a gaze hotter than blue flame. “Might be able t’help you with that.” He sat and took the bottom of Chris’ sweater in his hands, bunching it up and sliding it over his head and arms. He cupped Chris’ firm, denim-clad ass. “Shuck’em, cowboy.” His teeth glinted white in his smile.

Chris unbuckled his belt and let it fall to the floor. He toed off his boots, and, aware that Vin was watching him hungrily, slid his zipper down, hooked his thumbs in the waistband, and slowly pulled jeans and underwear down. He stepped free and stood in front of Vin.

Vin thought he might as well die right then and there, because he wasn’t ever gonna see a sight to match Chris Larabee as God made him. He was so damn beautiful it hurt to look at him; all ivory and gilt, with those green eyes the color of gold-flecked jade. Everything about him was perfect, the breadth of his shoulders, the impossibly narrow hips, and taut buttocks, the strong-boned legs, the swollen cock rising from dusky swirls of hair, that drew Vin’s gaze like a magnet.

“I reckon I must’ve done somethin’ right in this life,” he breathed. “T’be able to have you, Larabee.”

“Y’ain’t had me yet.” Vin’s wondering, intimate appraisal had Chris so aroused that he thought he would come before he had a chance to be touched by the sharpshooter’s hands. He knelt back down. “But I sure as hell want you to, Vin. Never wanted anything more.”

Their mouths met hard, open and seeking. The feel of Vin’s sleek flesh against his, the glorious tangle of limbs, to stretch out over him and to feel their sexes touch ... Chris was lost in sensations. He lapped at Vin’s throat, sucked on the ridge of his clavicle, teased his nipples into hardness with his tongue. He probed the sensitive navel, and felt Vin quiver with laughter, then he took his hips once more, and turned the full assault of mouth and hand on Vin’s sex. He cupped his balls, massaging them as he suckled on the weeping tip of his cock. He took Vin deep into his mouth and heard his frantic sob of pleasure as he glided his teeth gently over the sensitive skin. Vin’s hips began a rhythmic thrust as pure instinct took over his actions, and Chris responded by matching those movements with his mouth and hands. He had never made love to a man, but he knew his own body, and he knew how to give pleasure. He felt the tremors begin in Vin’s legs, the surge that drove him deeper into Chris’ mouth, then he climaxed, and Chris drank him in, stroking him, draining him, taking everything he had to give, until softened at last, he released him with a sigh.

Vin trembled in his arms and Chris gathered him close. His skin was moist and flushed, his mouth curved and sensual. Chris trailed kisses up his throat. “You all right, pard?”

Vin opened hazy blue eyes. “Ain’t never had anybody love me like that, Chris.” And when he saw Larabee’s quizzical expression, his shook his head and cursed his stumbling ability with words. “I mean ... I mean the fellas I been with --” A deep blush colored his cheeks, and Chris silenced him.

“Reckon I know what you mean.” Ignoring his own need, he settled Vin comfortably against his body. “They didn’t love you, Vin. They might’ve fucked your body, but they didn’t love you for this.” He tapped Vin’s chest, right over his heart. “They were Goddamn fools.”

Vin thought it over. The last person who had said they’d loved him had been his grandfather. After that, he’d been cast aside more than he’d been picked up. And those that had, had always wanted something from him: and not always sex, though they hadn’t been shy about using that as a means to an end. He’d learned that fast, but not fast enough to protect his heart. “I never loved ‘em either, then.” Vin’s voice was sad. “Must’ve wasted a lot of years.”

“Vin, they don’t deserve regret. Not for using and hurting you.” He kissed him deeply, tenderly. “I wouldn’t hurt you for the world.”

“I trust ya, Chris.” He ran his fingers through the light, silky strands of his lover’s hair. “N’I want t’give ya what you gave me. Want t’love you.”

“Are you askin’ or tellin’?” Chris smiled.

“Both.” Vin moved his body, bringing their cocks together, and growing hard again. He slid his hands over Chris’ torso, marveling anew at the utter perfection of the man. Ivory skin, and rich brown nipples that rose to peaks when he touched them, the hard pectoral muscles beneath satiny skin, the bow and hollow of his clavicle. Vin ran his tongue along that ridge of bone, sucked at the center hollow where Larabee’s pulse beat against his lips, tasted the sweet, salty roughness of his throat. Nipped at an earlobe, and made Chris draw in a sharp breath. Vin rained kisses across his eyelids, working his way across his forehead, and down the other side of his face to nip at the other tender lobe, gratified when he got the same response from the controlled agent. He would take his time, but when he was done, Larabee would be making the same sounds that he had wrung from Vin, and the thought of it made the Texan smile.

He took his time working his way back down to Chris’ chest; loving the way the man reacted to every touch, every sensation. Lord, this was the way lovin’ was meant to be! He took a nipple in his mouth and suckled, and felt the growl of pleasure rumble beneath his cheek. He teased the other nipple with his fingertip as he swirled his tongue around the nub, and felt the body beneath his grow still with heavy, waiting tension.

His own body was starting to ache with the languor of arousal. He laid a moist trail down Larabee’s flat belly, then blew over the damp skin. Chris cried out at the sensation. His hands were moving through Vin’s hair, guiding him towards his throbbing sex. Vin rubbed the tip between his fingers, loving the silky glide of the semen over the hard, warm flesh. Chris’ body arched up as Vin took his cock in his mouth and tongued the slit, drawing out another potent bead. He cupped Chris’ balls and squeezed gently. Larabee shuddered and his breath came hoarse and fast.

Vin moistened his fingers and slid them between Chris’s ass cheeks, finding the hole and making him thrash as they massaged the opening.

“Jesus!” Chris gasped, suddenly aware of what was happening, and caught between passion and apprehension at having his body claimed.

Vin understood. He stilled Chris with the palm of his hand laid flat on his abdomen. “If ya don’t want this, there’s other ways of lovin’.”

For a moment, Chris nearly agreed. Then he saw the look in Vin’s eyes, the hopeful patience, the blur of pain, the softness of love. “I’m gonna need help, here,” he said. “But I want this. Want you.”

Vin’s smile was brilliant. “I won’t hurt ya. I’ll take care of ya, make it right fer us both, cowboy. Wait.” He vanished out of Chris’ sight.

Chris closed his fingers over his engorged shaft, stroking his erection. Vin bent over the arm of the couch and captured his hands. “Miss me already?” he teased.

“Get over here an’ finish what ya started, ya damn Texan!”

Vin laughed and spread a blanket in front of the fire. “Might be better t’have a little workin’ room.” He held out his hand and Chris clasped his forearm and let Vin pull him down to the blanket. He stretched over Chris, warm in the firelight, looking down at this wondrous lover. He opened up the tube of lubricant and squeezed a generous amount in his palm, letting it warm in the hollow of his hand before he smoothed it over his palm and fingers. He enclosed Chris’ cock gently, rubbing and pumping as he tongued his nipples, bringing him back to writhing, moaning arousal. He positioned Chris’ legs over his, lifting his pelvis slightly.

Once again, he slid his fingers to the puckered hole and rubbed gently. Chris gasped. “Easy ... easy,” Vin soothed. His cock ached so much he thought he would ejaculate on the spot. He made sure his fingers were well lubricated before he eased one finger through the tight ring of muscle, and gently worked it inside Chris’ body. He felt Larabee tense as it brushed up against his gland, but he could tell from the way Chris’ breath started that it wasn’t pain he was feeling. He massaged gently and Chris bore down against his finger, seeking more contact. Vin withdrew slightly and slid in a second finger, scissoring the opening. His cock was weeping, burning, and sweat was gathering at his temples. Chris was starting to quiver and thrust, seeking the movement that would bring him to climax. Vin stroked his hips, soothing him. His third finger entered that warm channel, stretching it to allow his sex entry. He rubbed the gland and Chris bucked up as pleasure shot through him.

“Chris,” he whispered hoarsely. “I’m gonna try not t’hurt ya, but if I do, ya have to tell me, ‘cause once I’m inside, I won’t be able t’stop.”

“I want you inside,” was all Chris could manage. He was overwhelmed with pain, pleasure, fear, want, love ... Vin.

Vin slid his hands over his cock to coat it, nearly bringing himself to orgasm. He pushed the head against Larabee’s hole, entering him, feeling the muscles clench against his presence. Chris made a small keen of pain, and Vin stroked him, whispering to him to let go, to let him in. And Larabee’s body opened and accepted his full length.

Vin cried out and buried himself deep in his lover, pulling back and pushing in, feeling Larabee’s body join in the rhythm to drive him deeper inside. He took Chris’ cock in his hands and pumped the slick shaft. He cast back his head, sweat poured down his throat and chest, and he came at the same time Larabee climaxed in his hand, the milky stream of seed erupting over them both.

Chris lay still, Vin’s head laid on his abdomen, his chest rising and falling rapidly at first, then calming as his body settled. He stroked Vin’s hair, feeling the moist warmth of his breath on his skin. The light of the fire and the scent of sex enveloped them, made the rest of the world fade into darkness. Chris tugged gently at the curls woven around his fingers. “Vin?”

A muffled, “Hmm?”

“Want you up here where I can see you.”

Vin raised his head and gathered enough strength to inch up so that his head rested on Larabee’s shoulder. Those strong arms wrapped around him and he nestled closer to the warmth that radiated from Chris’ body. He sighed. “Feels like home. Like I been searching for this m’whole life.”

Chris kissed his forehead. He was awash in so many new sensations that he couldn’t speak right off, but Vin didn’t seem to mind his silence and lay content in his arms. Chris loved the feel of Vin; the slightness of the bones beneath the hard muscles, the texture of his skin. All apprehension was gone, and he held Vin close until the warmth of the fire began to die. He rose to stir it back to life. Vin shivered as the haven of his body was withdrawn, and Chris pulled the blanket over his shoulders. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, cowboy. I’ll be back.” He tended to the fire, then brought warm towels from the lavatory and cleaned the residue of lovemaking from their bodies before he slid back under the blanket and took Vin in his arms once again.

“Better?”

A sleepy blue eye appraised him, and a wicked smile curved that mouth. “Ain’t never been better. ‘Course, I reckon we need t’keep tryin’ t’be the best we can. Like target practice.”

Chris laughed. “Damn it, Tanner. You’re the marksman -- thought you hit the target ev’ry time.”

“Did I hit it this time?” he asked, his eyes glinting. “I’s a mite distracted.”

“Yeah,” Chris sighed. “I’d say you did.”

Tanner was silent for so long that Chris thought he had fallen asleep. “Vin? You awake?” he queried

“I ain’t sleepin’. I was thinkin’ our lives jist got a lot more complicated.”

Chris laughed softly. “And I was thinking that mine has got a lot simpler.” He drew in a deep breath. “I just dropped about ten tons of guilt, partner. Hope I didn’t drop it on you.”

“What about the others?” Vin asked. “How the hell ‘re they gonna understand this?”

Chris raised up on his elbow and looked down at him He flicked a wave of hair from his forehead. “Seems Josiah and Nathan already know. Don’t know how they figured it out before I did, but they aren’t gonna see us any differently.”

Vin considered that revelation for a moment before he spoke again. “They ain’t the ones I’m worried about.”

Chris lay back down. “I know.” He ran a long forefinger along the ridge of Vin’s cheekbone, stroked a thumb across his lips. “What happens between us, is between us. I don’t want to share it with anybody but you. But if they find out, they find out. I’m not ashamed of this; not any more. God, I’d be a fool to be ashamed of loving you.”

Vin’s eyes darkened and he brushed gentle fingers over Chris’ hair. “Won’t be easy,” he sighed.

Larabee looked down into his lover’s eyes, saw the fear, the concern, the wonder in those blue depths. “Nothing worth having ever is,” he said. He bent his head and kissed Vin deeply, tenderly. Then the emotion in that kiss kindled as surely as the tinder he had placed on the hearth, to match fire with fire.

Vin felt Larabee’s arousal, felt his own body responding and pulled Chris down beside him. “Hell, so much fer easy,” he sighed, and lost himself in shameless love.

 **The End**


End file.
